Signs
by Stoneheart1
Summary: Despite Ginny's assertions that Harry and Hermione are the ideal couple, Ron is convinced that HE and Hermione are linked by the irresistible bonds of Fate. What will it take to decide the matter once and for all? Nothing much. Merely -- a Sign. H/Hr
1. Date with Destiny

**Disclaimer:** This little Fifth Year ficlet is not to be confused in any way with Order of the Phoenix. The latter was written by J.K. Rowling, who owns all characters and situations attendant thereto (and who is now richer than the Queen of England because of it). The former was written by ME, purely for fun and NOT for profit. This story is presented here to be read freely by all, so for Merlin's sake, put your credit cards away before J.K. calls her lawyers!  
  
**Author's Note:** I'm going to make quite a bold statement for a lowly fanfic writer: This story contains elements which I firmly believe should be used by J.K. Rowling as part of the permanent HP mythos.  
  
What? How cheeky can a bloke get? But there you are. The readers are free to judge the audacity of my statement once they have finished the story. So be sure to read the whole story, okay? It's only 6 chapters, none of them very long. And when you're done, THEN you can tell me if I'm spitting in the dragon's eye or not.  
  
Ready to accept the challenge? Right, then. Let's go.  
  
  


***

  
  
When Ginny heard the heavy footsteps thumping in increasing volume on the boys' staircase, her eyes did not so much as flicker from the text of the book she was reading in a soft chair by the fireplace. Her wand was out, and she was moving it back and forth as she practiced a tricky spell she was to perform in her next Charms class. Without looking up, nor altering the pattern of her strokes by so much as a millimeter, she said casually, "So, where are you off to, Ron?"  
  
"How'd you know it was me?" Ron said as he halted in mid-stride.   
  
"Like I haven't heard those great plates of yours pounding up and down stairs all my life," Ginny said amusedly. She did not have to look up to see in her mind's eye the grin spreading across her brother's face. "Where you off to, then?"   
  
"Date with Hermione," Ron said with a note of casual indifference.   
  
Ginny's wand jerked up suddenly, sending a shower of red sparks into the air, a few of which landed on the hem on Ron's robes.   
  
"Watch it!" Ron cried as he slapped frantically at the smoldering pinpoints searing his robes.   
  
"Sorry," Ginny said, casting a hasty Extinguishing Charm that smothered the glowing embers still clinging to her brother's robes. "But you startled me. What's this about you having a date with Hermione?"   
  
"It's not _that_ kind of date," Ron said, though Ginny detected a note of regret which stated most clearly that he wished it _was_ 'that kind of date.' "Just a little dueling practice."  
  
"Who are you planning to duel?" Ginny smiled as she retrieved her Charms textbook, which had slipped from her lap and fallen to the floor. "Malfoy? Or is this a prelude to future Auror training?"   
  
Though there was nothing overt in his sister's query, Ron had the distinct impression that Ginny found the notion of him becoming an Auror about as likely as Eloise Midgen being the next cover model of Witch Weekly magazine. "You never know," he said in a very serious manner. Ginny's smile retreated, and Ron's defensive posture relaxed. "Look, Ginny, You-Know-Who came back last Summer, and everyone knows he'll stop at nothing to get Harry. Hermione and I had a talk, and we agreed that we'd both better be ready to stand by Harry if the worst happens. We're his best mates, Hermione and I. We're not going to just stand by and let him face You-Know-Who alone."   
  
Ginny didn't know whether to hug Ron for his courage and loyalty, or put a Body-Bind on him and lock him in Filch's broom cupboard until he came to his senses. Setting her book aside and rising from her chair, she chose the former.   
  
"You _are_ a good friend to Harry," she said, smiling as she saw his ears glowing pink. "And I'm sorry I thought you were going after Hermione behind his back, when you know how much he fancies her."  
  
Ron's embarrassed grin became strained. Wordlessly, he removed Ginny's hands from his shoulders and shifted in the direction of the portrait hole.   
  
"RON!" Ginny said in mild alarm. "You're not -- "   
  
"No," he said quickly. "I'm not going behind Harry's back. But that doesn't mean I think he's the right one for Hermione."   
  
Hearing these words, Ginny felt her heart skip a beat. Memories of the previous school year crashed against her brain like a rampaging hippogriff. All the signs had been there, for her and anyone else to see: The Yule Ball, Ron's jealousy of Viktor Krum, and his ill-disguised resentment at Rita Skeeter's inference that Hermione was Harry's "true love." Ginny thought Ron had left those feelings behind at the end of last term.   
  
A tenuous thread had formed between Harry and Hermione, beginning with their parting on the platform at Kings Cross, and extending through the Summer holidays. When the two of them had visited the Burrow only a month ago, Ginny found the electricity between them all but tangible. And since the beginning of the new school year, the bond linking them seemed to grow stronger every day, reflecting a deepening of friendship and mutual respect into something more, something indefinable. Only someone completely blind could fail to see it.  
  
But love _was_ blind, so went the old saying. Ginny did not doubt that Ron was sincere in his feelings for Hermione. The bookish girl had crept into and through him over a space of many years, and it was clear now that the events of a single Summer could not undo that. Nevertheless, Ginny felt compelled to speak up, no matter the seeming futility.  
  
"Ron," she said gently, "you've seen them together. You've seen the way they look at each other. Can you honestly say that Hermione looks at _you_ -- " Ginny cut herself off, fearing she had said too much. But Ron merely shrugged.   
  
"No offense, Ginny, but girls don't always know what they want, or what they _think_ they want. And as I was so forcefully reminded last December, Hermione _is_ a girl.   
  
"And if it comes to that, I happen to know that Harry hasn't even kissed her yet."   
  
Ginny looked horrified. "You haven't been spying -- ?"   
  
"Of course not," Ron said, clearly insulted. "I don't have to. Harry tells me everything. We're best mates, aren't we? And Harry told me only last week that he isn't sure _how_ he feels about Hermione."   
  
"Harry's been through a lot in the last few months," Ginny said. "He probably needs some time to sort out his thoughts on...everything."  
  
"Right," Ron agreed. "And as I said, I am _not_ going behind Harry's back. But Hermione has a say in this, too. If she chooses Harry, that's fine. I'll stand by the both of them. But the way I see it, until _someone_ decides one way or the other, the door is still open."   
  
"So what are you looking for?" Ginny asked. "A sign from Heaven?"  
  
Ron paused at Ginny's words. "That's as good a way to put it as any. A sign. Something. One way or another, something's going to happen that will sort all this out."   
  
"And you'll know it when you see it," Ginny said flatly.   
  
"Yes," Ron replied decisively.   
  
"And you'll abide by it, even if it favors Harry?"   
  
Ron paused again before answering with a reluctant nod.   
  
"Well, then," Ginny sighed. "I guess you'd best be off. I imagine Hermione's waiting for you, and she's not one to be kept waiting." As Ron grinned his agreement with this statement, Ginny added, "I stand by what I said before, Ron. You're a good friend to do this for Harry."   
  
"Where _is_ Harry?" Ron now thought to ask. "He disappeared right after breakfast."   
  
"He went to Hogsmeade," Ginny said.   
  
"What?" Ron exclaimed. "This isn't a Hogsmeade weekend. I saw the notice posted in the Great Hall."   
  
"Well?" Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Harry's a Prefect, isn't he?"   
  
"What's that got to do with anything?"   
  
"Ron!" Ginny said with a reproving look. "Percy told us any number of times!"   
  
"Like I ever listen to Percy if I can help it," Ron clucked.   
  
"Hogsmeade weekends have to be sanctioned by the village council," Ginny explained patiently. "They can't have hundreds of students swarming over the town without making special preparations first. It's like the Norman invasion once a month."   
  
"Who's Norman?" Ron said, scratching his head. "What house is he in?"  
  
Rolling her eyes with a shake of her flaming head, Ginny resumed, "But individual students Fifth Year and above can petition for a Discretionary Pass. It has to be approved first by the student's head of house, who then takes it to the village council for _their_ approval. And _all_ Prefects receive _automatic_ approval." As Ron digested this revelation, Ginny added, "You know, Hermione thinks _I_ have a good chance of making Prefect next year."   
  
"Just what I need," Ron grimaced. "My little sister taking points from me for snogging a girl in a broom cupboard."   
  
"Oh?" Ginny said, lifting a suspicious eyebrow. "And which girl would _that_ be?"   
  
"Uh..." Ron said nervously. "I...gotta go. Don't want to keep Hermione waiting. If you see Harry before I get back, don't tell him what I'm doing, okay? I want to...surprise him."   
  
Ginny looked after Ron thoughtfully as he disappeared through the portrait hole. Chuckling lightly, she sat back down in her chair, drew her wand, and opened her book to resume her lesson.   
  
  


***

  
  
**Author's Note:** If all goes well, chapters will be posted weekly, leading us right up to the release of Order of the Phoenix, at which time I (and everyone in the world, I suspect) will be putting everything on hold to read about Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts. But until June 21, fanfics rule! See you next week. 


	2. Food for Thought

**Author's Note:** Grateful thanks go to reviewers Elvish Fairy, Child of the Wolves, Occamy, venus4280, Sassy and Morgan Le Faye. We now take our leave of Hogwarts to follow a certain Gryffindor Prefect on a journey that will ultimately change his life forever. Intrigued? Then, pray, read on.  
  
  


***

  
  
When Harry pushed through the concealing brush and entered the hidden cave outside Hogsmeade, Sirius moved immediately to throw his arms around him in a crushing hug. This proved a bit awkward, as the only part of Harry that was showing was his head and his right arm. The rest of him was still hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, which he had only just begun to remove. To Sirius' surprise, Harry shrugged out of his godfather's embrace.   
  
"Sorry," Harry grinned, pulling off the Cloak. "But I didn't spend an hour packing this only to have you mash it to a pulp."   
  
With the discarding of the Invisibility Cloak, Harry was revealed to be shouldering a backpack that seemed on the verge of bursting its very seams. Unbuckling the harness, Harry slipped the pack from his shoulders and, in a move that caught Sirius completely by surprise, tossed it toward him like a Quidditch Chaser passing a Quaffle. Sirius instinctively retreated a step, expecting the heavily-laden pack to bowl him over. Instead, the pack floated a few feet above the floor of the cave like a khaki-colored soap bubble. Sirius blinked, then roared with delighted laughter.   
  
"Brilliant, Harry! First-rate Charm work. Lily herself couldn't have done better, and she was a bloody genius at Charms."   
  
Grinning appreciatively at the compliment, Harry pushed the pack to the ground and cancelled the Hover Charm with a wave of his wand. He tugged loose the binding straps and flung open the flap, and Sirius' eyes nearly popped out of his head. The pack was filled to overflowing with food. Harry fully expected Sirius to fall upon the pack ravenously, as he knew his fugitive godfather must be hungry beyond description. But when Sirius pounced, it was not onto the pack, but onto Harry.  
  
Breathless and aching though his godfather's embrace left him, Harry did not want it to end. Though not blood kin, Sirius was the closest thing to family Harry had. Not even his love for Arthur and Molly Weasley, who had all but adopted him as a seventh son, was the equal of his feelings for the man who had been his parents' closest friend and Best Man at their wedding. In a life filled with more disappointments than most people knew in a hundred years, Harry endured on a diet of hope. And his most fervent hope was that, some day in the not too distant future, Sirius' name would be cleared and the two of them would be reunited once and for all, to become in fact what they would ever be in spirit: A family.   
  
Releasing his godson reluctantly, Sirius blinked away the beginnings of tears from the corners of his deep, haunted eyes. "You're becoming quite a wizard, Harry. Your parents would be proud. I know _I_ am. So, how's school? Ron and Hermione okay? Snape still treating you like something that fell out of a hippogriff's backside?"   
  
"Yes to both," Harry wheezed, still trying to breathe properly after Sirius' painful embrace.   
  
"Then all's right with the world," Sirius grinned. "If Snapey ever _stops_ being the vile piece of slime he's always been, _then_ I'll begin to worry."   
  
"Speaking of hippogriffs," Harry said, "where's Buckbeak? Out rooting for worms?"  
  
"I set him free," Sirius said in a casual manner. "Don't need him any more. Now that I'm back to full strength, I can Apparate again."   
  
Looking at Sirius' undernourished frame, Harry seriously doubted that his godfather was "back to full strength." He knew it was compassion for Buckbeak which had prompted Sirius to give the once condemned hippogriff his freedom. It was not in Sirius' nature to deny another that which he himself most craved. It was merely one more reason why Harry loved his godfather as he did. But, reflecting now on Sirius' less than ideal state of health, Harry turned his attention to the primary purpose of his visit.   
  
"Better get at that food," Harry advised, nodding toward the open backpack. "I still haven't mastered the Refrigeration Charm yet, so it won't stay fresh too long. Hermione's helping me with that now. As soon as I've got _that_ down, I can work on expanding the inside of the bag, like Mr. Weasley did with his car. I'll be able to bring a lot more in a single trip then. Even so, from the way it felt before I Charmed it, there must be about 30 pounds there. Enough to last an ordinary man two weeks. Or Sirius Black about three days."   
  
With a hearty laugh, Sirius abandoned all pretense and dived to his feast. His hand caught up a brown paper parcel bound with string. Tearing it open, he stared avidly at an abundance of sliced roast beef. As Sirius unceremoniously stuffed four slices into his mouth, Harry produced a long loaf of hard bread which he had stuffed into his robes like a sword. Sirius' bruising hug had broken the loaf in two, saving Harry the trouble. From a pocket of his robes he drew out a piece of waxed paper bearing a shapeless lump of butter. Another pocket yielded a butter knife. Harry buttered the torn end of the loaf and thrust the whole at Sirius, who accepted it with a grin and began to gnaw on it with unrepressed relish.   
  
"I didn't bring anything to drink," Harry said. "Not enough room. I figured water would do."   
  
Sirius saw that Harry was now holding a tiny object in the palm of his hand. The morning light which struggled through the bushes at the cave mouth struck dull, metallic glints from it. With a smile directed at Sirius, Harry touched the object with his wand and said, "_Engorgio_." As Sirius watched, the metallic object enlarged until it was revealed to be a large pewter mug. His smile widening, Harry held his wand over the rim of the mug and said, "_Aquas_." A stream of clear water poured from Harry's wand, quickly filling the vessel to the brim. Sirius accepted the mug gratefully and drained the cool, sweet water in three gulps, smacking his lips before wiping his face with the back of his hand.   
  
"I wish I could make you food that easily," Harry said regretfully as he took the mug back and re-filled it.  
  
"Food magic is very tricky, Harry," Sirius said through another mouthful of beef. "It takes a special skill to do it right. Muck it up even a little, you could poison yourself. That's best left to house-elves. They have a special gift for food magic."   
  
"Molly Weasley's no slouch, either," Harry said, remembering watching Molly preparing food at the Burrow countless times. She did not produce _all_ of her family's meals via magic, but so long as she had her wand in hand, no one at the Burrow would ever go hungry.   
  
When Sirius had eaten his fill (wisely saving some of the food for later), Harry saw his godfather sag slightly. His fugitive status was testing his stamina, Harry knew, and it was anyone's guess when last he had enjoyed a good, restful sleep. Looking around the cave shortly, Harry spotted a sheet of rock which had split away from the cave wall in some unguessed age. With a vigorous wave of his wand, Harry Transfigured the slab of rock into a serviceable mattress. His eyes reflecting his amazement, Sirius sank onto his makeshift bed and sighed deliciously.   
  
When he was properly relaxed, Sirius opened his eyes to see Harry sitting cross-legged on the smooth stone floor an arm's length away. Working his shoulders into the mattress for emphasis, Sirius closed his eyes again and heaved an exaggerated sigh for Harry's benefit. "A lot of your dad in you as well. Transfiguration was always his strong point."   
  
"I know," Harry said, savoring the compliment.   
  
"Oh?" Sirius said, opening one eye. "Did I already tell you about that?"   
  
Harry shook his head. "Mr. Ollivander told me, the day I bought my wand. He said he remembered selling my mum and dad _their_ wands."   
  
"Ah," Sirius nodded. "Yes. Old Ollivander always said he could remember every wand he ever sold, and to whom."   
  
"I wish I could just go and buy _you_ a new wand," Harry sighed as he strolled again in his mind the dusty aisles of Mr. Ollivander's shop in Diagon Alley. He was unaware of the momentary flicker in his emerald eyes, but immediately a hard smile drifted across Sirius' dark features.  
  
"I know what you're thinking, Harry," Sirius said as he regarded his godson with a stare at once tender and steel-hard. "You're thinking that all you'd have to do is pretend to snap your wand, after which you'd give _me_ your _old_ wand while _you_ went to Ollivander's and bought yourself a _new_ one. It's a good thought...one I'd expect from you. Pity it won't work."  
  
"Why not?" Harry said, startled that his most secret thoughts could be divined so easily.  
  
"The Ministry regulates the sale of all wands," Sirius said with a regretful growl, his eyes narrowed sharply. "A record is kept of every wand ever made, and who owns it. Appearances to the contrary, you can't just go and buy a wand whenever you get the notion."  
  
"But when I first met Ron," Harry said, his brow wrinkling in puzzlement, "he was using a hand-me-down wand from his brother, Charlie."  
  
"Yes," Sirius nodded. "But Charlie had to formally and legally relinquish ownership of his wand before it could be transferred to Ron. Only then was _he_ permitted to buy himself a _new_ one from Ollivander's. And you can bet your last Galleon that he had to show Ollivander the transfer document, with the Ministry seal, before he was allowed to buy that new wand."  
  
Harry felt his shoulders droop slightly. But though clearly disappointed that his plan to help his godfather was for nought, he was nevertheless relieved deep inside that he would not have to give up his treasured wand. It had chosen him most definitively on that fateful eleventh birthday when Hagrid had first revealed the truth to Harry about his wizard heritage. And he was equally certain that, if Mr. Ollivander searched every corner of his shop from now until the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, they would find nothing even remotely approaching the inexorable bond linking him to this one wand.  
  
And this thought gave the young wizard even more cause for relief. For Harry's holly-and-phoenix-feather wand was bonded to more than its owner. It was also bonded irresistibly to another wand -- the one belonging to Lord Voldemort. The two wands were brothers, both possessed of a phoenix-feather core which had come from the same source -- Dumbledore's pet phoenix, Fawkes, to be precise. If his wand were forever linked to Voldemort's, then giving Sirius that wand would automatically place his godfather in the unswerving path of Voldemort's wrath. Sirius had quite enough to be getting on with, Harry thought determinedly, without making himself a kind of magical magnet for Voldemort's insane vengeance.  
  
"The Ministry takes no chances with an object as potentially dangerous as a wand," Sirius said with a grim smile, noting the disappointment painted across a face Harry mistakenly assumed to be impassive. "If a wizard could buy any number of wands at will, he could distribute them how and where he pleased. He could give them out to young wizards not yet in school, or to unqualified or expelled wizards, like Hagrid. Or to escaped criminals whose wands have been snapped."  
  
The bitterness in Sirius' voice, though suppressed with obvious effort, remained thick enough to be cut with an executioner's axe. It was, Harry knew, a good and wise law. In the hands of a genuine criminal, a wand could be a devastating weapon, capable of unimagined destruction and death. But Sirius was innocent of the crime for which he had been sentenced to a life term in Azkaban. It was at once fair and unfair.   
  
Harry did not need Hermione's level of intelligence to know that such brooding was not healthy for Sirius, physically or emotionally. In an effort to prevent his godfather from becoming morose, Harry quickly turned the conversation in a new direction.   
  
"You must have been pretty good at Transfiguration yourself," he said, pressing his fingers down on the edge of the mattress with undisguised satisfaction. "The Animagus spell is just another form of Transfiguration, isn't it?"   
  
Harry saw Sirius' eyes soften, and he smiled inwardly, glad that Sirius' mind was now diverted onto a less destructive path.   
  
"In a way," Sirius said thoughtfully. "The transformation itself is a form of Transfiguration. But the whole process involves a series of complicated steps, with various forms of magic brought into play. Charm work plays a big part. The human body wasn't made to adapt into some of the shapes an Animagus can assume. Look at Rita Skeeter -- and Peter -- " Sirius drew and expelled a rumbling breath before he continued in a somewhat tenser voice. "There can be a dramatic difference in the mass of the wizard versus his Animagus form. Where does it go? No one really knows. When I become a dog, I outweigh my wizard form by a good fifty pounds. And when James transformed into a stag, the difference was greater still. Then there's Rita, who changes from a hundred-pound witch to a bug weighing less than an ounce. Even the so-called experts don't fully understand it."   
  
"Professor Lupin said it took you most of three years to master the transformation," Harry said. Sirius nodded.  
  
"Those were the days," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "The best times of our lives. Out in the wizarding world, Voldemort was wreaking havok, playing the very devil with good people's lives. But at Hogwarts, there was no war, no killing, no Dark Lord. Our biggest worry was getting caught at some prank and having to serve a detention. Blimey, but I must have polished those bloody trophies of Filch's a hundred times." Sirius chuckled deeply in the back of his throat, and Harry smiled. "It was a wonderful time for the lot of us, Harry. A life filled with Quidditch games, and pranks played on Snape, and planting dung bombs in the teachers' lounge. And running on four feet through the Forbidden Forest under the full moon. The Marauders...against the world..."   
  
Sirius' voice trailed off, and Harry wondered if the combination of exhaustion and a full stomach had finally caught up with him. But a moment later, Sirius turned to face Harry, a sheepish grin glowing on his normally dark features.   
  
"Bloody hell, I'm too young to be getting so maudlin. Right. Let's hear all about your last few months, beginning with the trip back on the Hogwarts Express last June. You're not leaving until I've heard _everything_."   
  
Sighing through a broad grin, Harry Transfigured a large rock into a pillow and stuffed it against the small of his back. He knew he was going to miss lunch, and maybe even dinner. But it was worth it.   
  
  


***

  
  
**Author's Note:** Technically, I did not misrepresent this chapter. I said Harry's visit to Hogsmeade would ULTIMATELY change his life forever. The full impact will not be realized until the last chapter. But in the next chapter, Harry meets someone who will open his eyes to something neither he nor anyone else had ever considered. Another teaser? Of course! Do return, won't you? I promise, the payoff, when it comes, will be sweet. See you next week. 


	3. Ghosts of the Past

**Author's Note:** It's always a pleasure to welcome new reviewers along with the returnees. Thanks go to qwert, Morgan Le Faye, venus4280, psyche752 and Noodlejelly.  
  
And now, Harry is on his way back to Hogwarts. Let's tag along and see what happens, shall we?   
  
  


***

  
  
As always, it was painful for Harry to leave his godfather behind, not knowing if they would ever see each other again. Sirius was not only risking his life in the war against Voldemort, acting as a clandestine agent of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, but he was still a fugitive who could be killed on sight -- with full Minstry sanction -- by any witch or wizard who spotted him. And without a wand to protect him, Sirius could just as easily be killed by an armed Muggle (all of whom believed him to be a run-of-the-mill escaped murderer) as by a Death Eater or a Ministry Auror. It was not a happy thought.  
  
Checking his watch, Harry saw that he still had plenty of time to return to Hogwarts before evening curfew, which applied to Prefects as well as to regular students. While his Prefect badge entitled him to roam the school grounds at will, day or night, anything beyond was strictly off-limits between dusk and dawn. Harry knew this was a wise precaution, as Hogsmeade and the surrounding area was a crossroads of sorts for magical folk of all descriptions, human and otherwise. There were times when the streets of Hogsmeade were quite as dangerous as the Forbidden Forest. As the sun sank until it was just brushing the tallest spires of Hogwarts castle, Harry was more than glad that he had a safe, warm bed waiting for him back in Gryffindor Tower. It was more than Sirius could claim, he reflected sadly.  
  
In spite of this, Harry could not help but return from his sporadic visits with Sirius with more good thoughts than bad. Being with his godfather, hearing him speak of the old days when he and Harry's parents were young and vibrant with life, was a balm for Harry's soul. Each time, Harry was left with a clearer, more vivid image of the parents he had never known outside his dreams and the occasional wizard photograph. Visits like the one today were becoming rarer, as Sirius was engaged ever more deeply in secret missions for Dumbledore and the Order. Thus, Harry clung ever more fiercely to every detail of these visits, and of the good feelings and memories they birthed.   
  
As Harry ascended the path leading toward the winged boars guarding the entrance to Hogwarts, his feet moved of their own accord, his mind being otherwise occupied. Thus it was that Harry noted only abstractly that someone seemed to be calling his name. The voice appeared to be growing impatient, as if the speaker had been calling him repeatedly without response. Harry turned toward the direction from which the address seemed to be coming, an apology already forming in his mind. But when he opened his mouth, what came out was not an apology, but a gasp of surprise.  
  
"Did I startle you?" droned a sad, mournful voice. "Sorry. I've been calling your name, but you weren't listening. Oh, don't apologize. I'm used to people ignoring me. In fact, I rather prefer it. It's better than being teased all the time."  
  
"I _am_ sorry, Myrtle," Harry said sincerely to the floating apparition of a round-faced girl with lank hair and thick, pearly glasses. "I didn't mean to ignore you. I was just -- thinking."  
  
Moaning Myrtle sniffed, adjusting her glasses. "I know," she said with what almost sounded like sympathy. "You were thinking about your parents."  
  
"H-how did you know that?" Harry stammered. "Can -- can ghosts read minds?"  
  
"No," Myrtle said with obvious disappointment, as if she dearly wished that _were_ the case. "I know you just came from visiting Sirius, and he always talks about them, doesn't he?"  
  
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. "WHAT? Y-you _know_? B-but -- HOW?"  
  
"Oh, I've seen you go to the caves loads of times," Myrtle said dismissively. "You and your two friends."   
  
"You -- haven't _told_ anyone -- have you?" Harry said, a chill racing down his spine despite the warmth of the day.  
  
"Oh, no," Myrtle said quickly. "I wouldn't want to get Sirius in trouble. He's in enough already, isn't he?"   
  
"What do you know about it?" Harry asked, his concern now replaced by curiosity.  
  
"Well, I know everything, don't I ?" Myrtle said, puffing herself up importantly. " I know a lot more than people give me credit for. Besides, I knew Sirius when he was at school. I always knew he wasn't guilty. He wasn't like the others. Those horrid Slytherins, and those snooty Ravenclaws."  
  
"But," Harry persisted, "how did you _know_?"  
  
"Well, I get around, don't I?" Myrtle said, as if stating the obvious. "I see things. It's hard to keep secrets from a -- "  
  
"From a ghost?" Harry finished without thinking.  
  
For a long, tense moment it looked as if Myrtle would burst into tears. But, to Harry's great relief, she regained control of herself -- wanting, perhaps, to continue to bask in her self-importance while such a rare opportunity lasted.  
  
"People can't hide from -- from -- us -- you know," she said in an almost preening manner. "We can go anywhere, through walls and things. We see things that -- that -- living people miss. And if I say so, I fancy that _I_ get around more than _any_ of the others."  
  
By "others," Harry knew that Myrtle was referring to the other Hogwarts ghosts. Now that he thought about it, every ghost Harry had seen since the day he arrived at Hogwarts seemed more than content to remain within the castle walls. Every ghost, that is, except Myrtle. She had once admitted to Harry that she had left the castle shortly after her death, following and haunting one Olive Hornby, a student who had made Myrtle's life miserable during her brief tenure at Hogwarts. Myrtle returned only when compelled to do so by the Ministry of Magic. Even then, Myrtle was not always to be found in her usual haunt, the girls' loo housing the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Only last year, Myrtle had turned up in the lake, surprising -- and, indeed, helping -- Harry during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament.   
  
A wave of expectation now washed over Harry as the full import of Myrtle's words sank in. "If you knew Sirius at school," he said in a slow, hopeful voice, "you must also have known...my parents."  
  
"Oh, yes," Myrtle said with surprising warmth, her normally cheerless face melting into the first truly pleasant expression Harry had seen her wear in the three years he had known her. "Lily was always very nice to me. She never teased me like the others did. And James always made me laugh. He and his friends were always playing jokes and pranks. Usually they were on the students who made fun of me. In fact, sometimes, when they heard someone boasting how they had teased me, they'd prank them _specially_ to teach them a lesson. Whenever I heard that they'd got another detention -- they got loads, you know -- it always made me smile. Because I knew that, somewhere, someone who'd been mean to me had got paid back."  
  
Harry now saw a rare thing. Myrtle's see-through eyes began to fill with tears. But they were not the usual tears of misery and self-pity she usually wept. These tears, Harry knew with a twinge in his heart, were for his parents.  
  
"I was very sad when I heard that James and Lily were dead," Myrtle said. "I wished they'd come back here, to Hogwarts, so we could be together again. But they didn't come back. They had no reason to. And then everyone said that Sirius had betrayed them. But I knew it wasn't true. I knew he'd never do something like that. Peter, maybe. But never Sirius."  
  
"Why didn't you tell someone?" Harry said with an ache in his voice. "Dumbledore, or somebody?"  
  
"I think Professor Dumbledore might have suspected, a little," Myrtle said, her face returning to its familiar woebegone state. "But no one _really_ knew, did they? Besides," she added in a deep lament, "who'd ever listen to _me_?"  
  
Harry suddenly found himself in a situation similar to the one he'd faced in Sirius' cave. Not wanting Myrtle to fall deeper into her depression -- even though he well knew that this was a state in which she seemed to thrive -- Harry endeavored to redirect the conversation.  
  
"If you knew the Marauders," he said in an upbeat voice," you must have known Remus Lupin, too. I mean, you must have known _all_ about him -- about his -- condition."  
  
"Remus was a very nice boy," Myrtle said, the sadness in her voice seeming to be directed at Lupin rather than herself. "Very quiet. It made me sad that he had to be -- like that. But at least he had his friends. Real friends. They never deserted him. If _I'd_ had friends like that, I might not be a...a..."  
  
Harry barely caught himself before unwittingly repeating his earlier mistake. Instead, he waited patiently for Myrtle to continue, giving her his full attention. She noted this, and she seemed almost flattered.  
  
"I saw him change loads of times," she said at last, her enthusiasm renewed, if marginally. "All of them."  
  
"It must have been exciting back then," Harry said encouragingly. "On the nights when the moon was full, you must have seen them running together over the school grounds, through the Forbidden Forest..." Myrtle nodded, though not so enthusiastically as Harry had hoped. Pressing on, he said, "In all that time, no one ever found out, did they? About the Marauders' transformations, I mean. The teachers and everyone all knew about Lupin, but not even Dumbledore suspected that his best friends had become Animagi to keep him company. _You're_ the only one who knew the truth. That must have been a real special feeling to have."  
  
Harry was sure he had hit paydirt. Myrtle's despondent face twitched, as if she were debating whether to smile but could not decide one way or the other. Emboldened by his apparent success, Harry charged forward, going for the Golden Snitch.  
  
"Can you imagine what Dumbledore's reaction would have been?" he grinned at Myrtle. "There he was, Headmaster of the school, believing himself completely in charge and knowing everything that was going on around him. But _you_ were the only one who _really_ knew. No one but _you_ knew that there were three unregistered Animagi running around under Dumbledore's very nose."   
  
It happened slowly. Harry watched it happen, his heart pounding in his chest triumphantly. Behind her pearly spectacles, Myrtle's eyes began to glow like polished silver Sickles. The corners of her mouth began to tug outwards. If Harry had thought Myrtle's smile of a few minutes past was bright, it paled before the one she wore now. Harry had not seen so brilliant an expression on Myrtle's face since the day when he had flattered her by asking her the circumstances of her death. As Harry grinned, satisfaction glowing warmly inside him, Myrtle clapped her hands together in unrestrained delight.  
  
"Oooooh!" she exclaimed, her excitement bringing a silvery blush to her pale cheeks. "Have _I_ got something to tell _you_!"  
  
  


***

  
  
**Author's Note:**Sorry we won't be able to linger to hear what Myrtle has to tell Harry. But Hermione has been waiting for two chapters now, and you KNOW how she hates to be kept waiting! Join us next time for a little duelling practice, culminating in a manner most unexpected. See you then. 


	4. Sibling Rivalry

**Author's Note:** Thanks to sbys, Startide Risen, Amerz and Morgan Le Faye for their comments on Chapter 3 (and special thanks to amb186 for her catch as regards Chapter 2, which has been put to rights).  
  
Are we all ready for a little duelling practice? Then what are we waiting for?  
  
  


***

  
  
"No, no," Hermione said, her lips pursing impatiently. "You have to make a _complete_ circle with your wand! Just saying the incantation isn't enough. If you don't complete the circle, the air won't harden as it should."  
  
Ron was picking himself up off the grass, rubbing his left shoulder where Hermione's stunning spell had grazed it. When the beam of light from her wand had punched through his magical shield, it was only by a desperate dodge that he avoided being struck full in the chest and knocked unconscious.  
  
"Now," Hermione said in her best Professor McGonagall voice, "before we try again, draw a circle in the air with your wand."   
  
"I _know_ how to draw a circle, Hermione," Ron said sulkily as he brushed dirt and leaves from the knees of his robes.  
  
"_Knowing how_ and _doing it_ are worlds apart where _you're_ concerned, Ron," Hermione retorted. "Now, show me."   
  
Sighing defeatedly, Ron raised his wand and drew a circle in front of him roughly a yard across.  
  
"Satisfied?" he huffed.  
  
"Again," Hermione said. "Faster this time."  
  
Knowing he could not win a war of words with Hermione, Ron repeated the action, more quickly this time.  
  
"Good," Hermione nodded curtly. "Faster."  
  
Ron continued to make circles in the air, his speed increasing each time at the behest of Hermione's continuous prompting. Then, without warning, Hermione stabbed her wand at Ron and cried, "_Stupefy_!"  
  
Acting without thought, Ron whipped his wand around crisply in a perfect circle and shouted, "_Deflecto_!" A disc of air shimmered before him, exactly matching the circle he had described. The beam from Hermione's wand glanced off the magical shield and shot harmlessly into the air.  
  
"Well done!" Hermione beamed at Ron. "If a Death Eater tries to attack Harry while _we're_ around, he'll have a job getting past _you_!"  
  
Smiling with gratification, Ron felt his ears burning. Hearing such praise from Hermione made him feel strangely light inside. There was a fluttering in his chest that was at once the most wonderful feeling he had ever experienced, and the most painful.  
  
Suddenly Hermione's laughing eyes sharpened.  
  
"_Expelliarmus_!"  
  
Ron's wand flew from his hand. Hermione caught it, a superior smile making her face shine like the sun.  
  
"Constant vigilance, Weasley," she said, tossing Ron his wand.  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Ron grumbled, catching his wand and holding it defiantly before him.  
  
Endeavoring to salve Ron's injured pride, Hermione said brightly, "I think we've got the blocking spell down. What say we spice things up with a little one-on-one?"  
  
Ron nearly dropped his wand. It was only through a supreme effort of will that he was able to keep his mouth from falling open like the trapdoor of Professor Trelawney's classroom. "Excuse me?" he said in a squeaky voice which he found even more humiliating than open-mouthed silence would have been.  
  
"An actual duel," Hermione said challengingly. "Have a bash?"  
  
"Oh," Ron said vacantly. "Right. Uh...yeah. Okay."  
  
Ron and Hermione stood back-to-back, paced off ten steps each, and turned to face each other. They saluted with their wands, then thrust out their arms like fencers brandishing rapiers.  
  
"_Locomotor Mortis_!" Ron cried. Hermione dodged the beam from Ron's wand with a supple twist of her shoulders, her feet moving not a millimeter.  
  
"_Rictusempra_!" Hermione said sharply. Her beam caught Ron's left side as he dodged awkwardly. He shrieked a brief, mirthless laugh as his ribs twitched to a tickling sensation so acute that it bordered on actual pain.  
  
Ducking as he spun about, Ron drew a gasping breath, pointed his wand and said, "_Confundus_!"  
  
Hermione dived, just avoiding the beam of purple light that would have sent her thoughts into a jumble of confusion had it struck home. She rose onto one knee, observing that Ron's slight quiver was diminishing as he shook off the glancing effects of the Tickling Charm. Electing to remain kneeling in order to present a lesser target, Hermione placed her left hand on the ground for support and pointed her wand at Ron.  
  
"_Tarantallegra_!" she shouted.  
  
She had barely got the words out when she heard Ron cry, "_Expelliarmus_!"  
  
The two beams, loosed at virtually the same moment, met in mid-air. Both Ron and Hermione expected the spells to cancel each other out and expire in a wisp of smoke, or perhaps glance off one another, as had happened last year when Harry and Malfoy had attacked each other in Potions class.  
  
Instead, as both stared in astonishment, the two beams fused into one, humming in a soft, low drone. The point where the beams touched began to glow a brilliant white, and this energy proceeded to move back along the beams in either direction, inching slowly toward Ron's and Hermione's wands.  
  
Ron felt his wand begin to shake in his hand, and a quick glance at Hermione revealed that she was having an increasingly difficult time holding her wand as well. Thinking quickly, Ron shouted, "Nullify! On three! One...two..."  
  
On "three," both Ron and Hermione cried, "_Finite Incantatum_!" There was a silent burst of light as Ron's and Hermione's wands kicked back, knocking them to the ground as if they had been assaulted by the hind quarters of a centaur.  
  
"What in the name of Wendelin the Weird was _that_?" Ron exclaimed as he sat with his eyes riveted on the end of his wand.  
  
Hermione stared at her own wand, then up at Ron. "I...recognize that effect. You should, too."   
  
Ron lifted his eyebrows in puzzlement.  
  
"Last Summer," Hermione said in a distant voice. "Harry. The duel in Little Hangleton. The duel with..."  
  
Ron felt the skin between his shoulders twitch. "But that would mean..." Ron's voice trailed off as he stared more fixedly at his wand.  
  
"There's only one way to find out," Hermione said.  
  
Ron had no idea what Hermione was talking about. His silent nod was not one of understanding and agreement, but an acknowledgment that he would place his trust in her unquestioningly. She sounded certain -- and the only thing Ron was certain about in this moment was that he was totally clueless.  
  
  


***

  
  
**Author's Note:** Like Hermione, the shrewd among you will no doubt know what happened between Ron's and Hermione's wands, and why. For those of you who are as clueless as Ron, Chapter 5 will provide the answer.  
  
Now, since this story is my only work-in-progress, hence my only open forum, I address the following remarks to a recent reviewer of some of my earlier works, one galtxtr:  
  
First, thanks for the kind words. To the questions you posed, answers are as follows:  
  
Chapter 5 of Two Hearts seemed abrupt for very good reason -- the end of it was missing! Why it disappeared is anyone's guess, but the missing portion has been restored, and you can now go back and see exactly why Harry "froze."  
  
Why did Harry leave so abruptly? I thought his ruminations as he prepared to fight Voldemort explained his reasons. I try not to get too chatty and to let the characters' thoughts and actions explain their motivations. Was I too subtle? Could be. No one will ever accuse me of being J.K. Rowling, that's for sure.  
  
And Hermione's decision to marry Ron after only one year might seem hasty unless one considers that she was already 90% in love with him to begin with. As my opening comments observed, Hermione always loved both of the men in her life; it was not that she loved Ron LESS so much that she simply loved Harry so much MORE.  
  
And in A Wish Your Heart Makes, Hermione's reasons for renting the broom were made clear by Harry when he said to her, "If I wasn't always going on about broomsticks like a childish prat, you wouldn't have felt the need to learn how to fly just to please ME."  
  
And last, you expressed a desire for longer stories. While short fiction is where my strength lies, I do have a longer work coming up when this story is done. Details will be provided at the end of the last chapter, so stick around for a bit and see if it catches your interest.  
  
And I hope EVERYONE sticks around for two more chapters. Hey, you've hung around THIS long, right? Until next time, thanks for reading.  



	5. A Tail of Two Wands

**Author's Note:** Sassy and Morgan Le Faye seem to have picked up on last chapter's title-clue (Sibling Rivalry), but dashara, galtxtr, Luni and qwert either missed the significance -- or maybe they're just too circumspect to commit themselves until all the facts are in. In either case, the answer follows, in no uncertain terms, in: A "Tail" of Two Wands.  
  
  


***

  
  
"I still can't believe they let us come without a teacher," Ron said as he and Hermione stepped through a door into a small, dimly-lighted shop. From somewhere in the gloomy recesses, a bell tinkled, announcing their presence.  
  
"I'm a Prefect," Hermione said impatiently. "It's no different than going to Hogsmeade."  
  
"Oh yes it is," Ron said as he brushed soot from his hair, creating a dirty gray cloud around his head that nearly made him sneeze. "Hogsmeade is only a short walk from the castle. Diagon Alley is a _long_ way from Hogwarts."  
  
"Not by Floo, it isn't," Hermione returned as she absently brushed soot from her shoulders. She did not look at Ron as she spoke. Her head was swiveling in every direction, taking in the endless rows of long, narrow boxes lining the dusty shelves from floor to ceiling.  
  
With no slightest sound to announce his coming, an old wizard appeared before them. He was not so old as Dumbledore, but his white hair and silver eyes gave him a ghost-like appearance, rather like Professor Binns with a touch more coloring.  
  
"Ah, students," Mr. Ollivander said brightly. "But not first years, surely. Purchasing replacement wands, then?" His pale eyes fell on Ron with sudden recognition. "Ah, but you, at least, have already done so, have you not? A year ago last Summer, if memory serves."   
  
"Uh...yeah," Ron said. "My wand got snapped, and my parents bought me a new one."  
  
"Willow and unicorn hair," Mr. Ollivander said without a moment's hesitation. "Fourteen inches. It chose you most decisively, as I recall."  
  
Mr. Ollivander turned to Hermione.  
  
"The new wand is for you, then, my dear?"  
  
"No," Hermione said, drawing her wand and holding it before her. Ron pulled out his wand and held it up next to Hermione's. Mr. Ollivander's moon-like eyes flitted from Ron's wand to Hermione's and back again.  
  
"Oh, my, yes," Mr. Ollivander said slowly. He took Ron's wand first, examined it briefly, then shifted it to his left hand so as to examine Hermione's wand in like manner. At length he held the two wands before him, twirled them between his fingers, sighted down their lengths. He waved each in turn, producing red and gold sparks, respectively. Then, his eyes narrowing, he touched the tips of the wands together. They recoiled with a snapping sound as of a wizard cracker popping.  
  
"Brother wands," Mr. Ollivander breathed. "Unquestionably."  
  
"Do you know anything about them?" Hermione asked.  
  
A look of mild offense drifted across Mr. Ollivander's colorless face, passing almost as quickly as it came. With an unmistakable note of pride in his voice, he said, "I myself plucked the tail hairs that went into these wands. I recall it as if it were yesterday. I was taking a brief holiday in Hogsmeade -- it was exactly twenty years ago next month -- I had just taken tea with Professor Dumbledore, and I decided to take a stroll along the perimeter of the Forbidden Forest ere departing. One never knows when a magical creature will make an appearance, and fate often steps in when one least expects.  
  
"So it was that day. I spied a truly magnificent unicorn lingering at the very edge of the wood. I had not seen so exquisite a specimen in many a year, and I knew I must essay to pluck at least one tail hair. As you may know, unicorns are somewhat skittish around males, so my hopes were not high. But I was determined at the very least to make the attempt.  
  
"To my absolute delight, the mare -- for so I determined her to be -- stood perfectly still, as if she knew I meant her no harm. Did I not know better, I would have said that her eyes possessed an almost human understanding. Howbeit, I very gently plucked a tail hair; and then, knowing as I did that I might never encounter so fine a creature again, I made so bold as to snatch a second hair. She regarded me for a moment, then flicked her tail and bounded away.   
  
"I have made numerous visits to Hogwarts since then," Mr. Ollivander said dreamily. "I returned only last year, in fact. But of that particular unicorn I have seen no trace. Nor, I think, shall I ever."  
  
Sighing through a wan smile, Mr. Ollivander returned Ron's and Hermione's wands.  
  
"You are housemates?" he ventured, his manner once more one of friendly formality.  
  
"Gryffindor," Ron said. "Fifth Year."  
  
"And close, I perceive," Mr. Ollivander smiled.  
  
"Since Halloween of First Year," Hermione said, remembering the day Ron and Harry had saved her from certain death at the hands of a mountain troll, cementing their friendship for all time.  
  
"For two friends to come by brother wands speaks of a very special bond," Mr. Ollivander said. "It is, of course, the wand that chooses the witch or wizard. It is not by chance that these wands fell to you. There is a common destiny linking you, I think. Only time will tell how profound that destiny may prove. But I think it is safe to say that the two of you are inextricably linked to some great purpose. Indeed, yes."  
  
Hermione had a very strange look on her face as she and Ron walked back to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo back to Hogwarts. Ron's face bore an equally curious look. But whereas Hermione appeared to be wrestling with nameless thoughts of great complexity, Ron's concentration seemed to be centered on a single goal: To keep himself from grinning from ear to ear.  
  
  


***

  
  
**Author's Note:** The mystery of the wands is solved -- or is it? A final clue is contained herein for those who can read between the lines. But you won't have long to wait. All questions are answered in the next (and final) chapter, fittingly titled: Myrtle's Secret. Don't miss it!  
  
Aside to galtxtr: I'm enjoying our verbal tennis match. As it is once again my serve, I refer you to the scene (in A Wish Your Heart Makes) where Harry and Ron (minus Hermione) sip butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks. When Ron inquires as to Hermione's absence, Harry replies that she "had to do something special. Said she wanted to surprise me." When Harry learned later that Hermione had rented a broomstick, he simply put two and two together. It was an assumption on his part, true. But he knew her so well, he was sure there could be no other answer. And he was right!  
  
Thanks for paying such close attention. Good reviews are worth their weight in wizard gold, so keep them coming. (And that goes for everyone!) Later!  



	6. Myrtle's Secret

**Author's Note:** FF.N seems to be deleting reviews again; 32 reviews are listed, but only 28 are actually posted. As I express my gratitude to Occamy, galtxtr, Amerz and Sassy for their comments on Chapter 5 (the latter review DID at least show up in my e-mail), I also extend a blanket Thank You for those missing reviews consigned to oblivion. Of course, I will have no forum to thank those who deign to comment on this final chapter. I can only hope that everyone who stuck until the end found the journey worthwhile.  
  
And now, what are we waiting for? Last time, Ron found the Sign he was looking for. But does it mean what he THINKS it does?  
  
What do YOU think? ^_^  
  
  


***

  
  
Ron finally released his suppressed grin in the confines of the Gryffindor common room. He was all but dancing as he paced the area between the fireplace and the four overstuffed chairs ringing the hearth, and Ginny, who was sitting in one of those chairs, thought her brother might burst into song.  
  
"This is _it_!" Ron exuberated, looking at his wand as if he wanted to kiss it. "The sign I was looking for! Brother wands!"  
  
Completely lost for words, Ginny could only look on as Ron tossed his wand in the air and caught it, laughing like a house-elf drunk on butterbeer.   
  
"Brother wands can never be used against each other," Ron announced giddily. "They can only work _together_! It's bloody marvelous! Everyone says Hermione and I could never be a couple because we fight all the time. But that's just -- I dunno -- surface tension or something. Deep down in our cores, Hermione and I are soul mates! Just like our wands!  
  
"And to think I owe it all to Gilderoy Lockhart! If that smarmy git hadn't used my old wand to try to put a Memory Charm on Harry and me, it wouldn't have blown up, and Mum and Dad wouldn't have bought me _this_ one!"  
  
And, as Ginny looked on in shocked disbelief, Ron _did_ kiss his wand. Shaking her head to clear that nauseating vision from her mind, she found her voice at last and said, "Mum and Dad would have got you a new wand anyway. I heard them say so loads of times. They just wanted to teach you a lesson after you and Harry pinched Dad's car. They knew you couldn't have used that wand indefinitely, even if it _hadn't_ snapped. It _was_ really Charlie's, after all. They knew you could never realize your full potential using a hand-me-down wand."  
  
"See?" Ron beamed. To Ginny's near-horror, he was now caressing his wand the way a mother cat might have cuddled a favorite kitten. "It was _destiny_! Hermione got _her_ wand five years ago, but the _other_ one just sat in Ollivander's for _ages_. That's 'cause it was waiting for _me_! The _wand_ chooses the _wizard_, you know."  
  
Ginny did not know how to respond. She was thoroughly convinced that Harry and Hermione belonged together. Even during the three-plus years when she fancied Harry herself, she knew deep down that hers was a lost cause. It was always Hermione. Painful though it was to admit, it was something she had never doubted.  
  
But what was she to think _now_? Ron's argument _did_ make sense. There _must_ be another answer, she thought - but if there was, it was one too deep for _her_ to fathom.   
  
"Say, where's Harry?" Ron said suddenly, looking like he was bursting to tell his best friend the news. "He must be back from Hogsmeade by now."  
  
"He's upstairs," Ginny said, nodding toward the staircase leading to the boys' dorms.  
  
"HARRY!" Ron shouted as Ginny grimaced, glad that the balmy evening had left the common room empty of students. "COME ON DOWN!"  
  
A muffled thumping on the stairs was followed in short order by Harry, who wore a smile which, if not so wide as Ron's, was just as bright. Ginny had a strange feeling that Harry was just as eager as Ron to impart some news of his own.   
  
"Been waiting for you and Hermione," Harry said eagerly. "Dumbledore said you'd gone off on a 'secret mission.' "  
  
"Wait'll you hear," Ron said, scarcely able to restrain himself.  
  
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked.  
  
"Guess," Ron grinned even more broadly.  
  
"She's probably doing the Potions essay you two _should_ be doing," Ginny said with gentle reproval.  
  
"Let's go," Harry said. "I have something I need to tell both of you." Harry turned to Ginny with apologetic eyes. "You don't mind? I really don't mean to ignore you..."  
  
"Off you get," Ginny chuckled. "I'm fine."  
  
Smiling his thanks, Harry strode through the portrait hole with Ron close on his heels. Hermione was, indeed, immersed in her Potions essay. She sat at a large table which was spread with books of every description. A very large and very old book lay open to her left, and her eyes darted back and forth as she wrote in small, elegant letters upon a long roll of parchment. Despite Harry's quiet urgings (Madam Pince had her eye on both him and Ron), Hermione refused to budge until she had finished the last paragraph of her essay. With a satisfied nod, she set her quill aside, closed the old book carefully, and smiled up at Harry.  
  
"We need to talk," Harry said with quiet urgency, still wary of Madam Pince.  
  
"I just need to put these books back," Hermione said.  
  
"This is important, Hermione," Harry said impatiently.  
  
"Then the quicker you help me re-shelve these, the sooner we can go and talk," Hermione said.  
  
When at last the table was clear, Harry led his two friends outside in search of a private place where they could talk. The grounds were swarming with students, all of them enjoying the night in groups of two or more. The Prefects were keeping everyone within sight of the castle, so Harry set off in the direction of Hagrid's cabin, his way cleared by his and Hermione's silver Prefect badges glinting on their robes. They found a large, inviting tree that would mask them from the castle, and Harry motioned for Ron and Hermione to sit while he paced back and forth with barely-suppressed excitement.  
  
"I couldn't let anyone else hear this," he said at last. "It's about the Marauders."  
  
"Is that why you went to Hogsmeade today?" Ron said excitedly. "Is Snuffles back?"  
  
"Yes," Harry said in a low voice. "Just for a day or two. But that's not what I want to talk about. It's more to do with the Marauders. All of them."  
  
Hermione thought she heard Harry's voice break slightly as he spoke these last words. "What about them?" she prompted delicately.  
  
"You remember that night in the Shrieking Shack," Harry began. "When Professor Lupin told us how his friends became Animagi to keep him company when he transformed into a werewolf."  
  
Ron and Hermione both nodded.  
  
"But what Lupin and Sirius _didn't_ tell me -- because they didn't know _themselves_ -- was that there was a _fourth_ unregistered Animagus at Hogwarts then."  
  
After a moment's pause, Hermione's brown eyes went round as bronze Knuts.  
  
"Harry! You don't mean -- ?"  
  
Harry gave a short, firm nod.  
  
"Sirius once told me that they all practiced separately, to avoid drawing attention to themselves. Sometimes Sirius would help Pettigrew -- " Harry nearly stumbled over the name of the man whose betrayal had cost his parents their lives, " -- because he wasn't quite so adept as the rest. But for the most part, they all practiced alone, in far corners of the Hogwarts grounds where they wouldn't be seen. It's what Fred or George once called 'plausible deniability." If one of them got caught, the others would still be safe from suspicion. So none of them _really_ knew what the others were up to, you see?"  
  
Harry paused. Hermione seemed to be nodding very quietly to herself, but Ron's expression was one of complete bafflement. Addressing himself more to Ron than Hermione now, Harry went on.  
  
"What I'm saying is, even as they were keeping the secret from everyone else, they were _also_ keeping secrets from _each other_. Because all those times when Sirius was off helping Pettigrew, my dad was off helping someone, too. My mum."  
  
Ron, who had been leaning back on his elbows, slipped and hit the back of his head on a tree root. He rubbed his head gingerly as he righted himself.   
  
"They helped each other, actually," Harry continued. "Sirius said Charm work is a big part of the Animagus spell, and my mum -- " But Ron cut him off.  
  
"Your _mum_ was an -- an Animagus?" he stammered. "B-but -- you said even Sirius and Lupin didn't know. So who _told_ you?"  
  
"Moaning Myrtle," Harry said, which news brought a look of surprise to Hermione's face to match the one Ron already wore. "I learned today that she knows a lot more than people give her credit for. I reckon she knows about as much of what goes on around here as Dumbledore himself. She even knows about Sirius."  
  
Ron and Hermione looked at each other in alarm. "She's not going to tell -- is she?" Hermione said fearfully.  
  
"No," Harry said. "In fact, I think she could be very helpful. She gets around a lot, sees things that others miss. And with the basilisk no longer a threat, I don't think there's much Voldemort can do to hurt her."  
  
"IF we can keep her from crying her head off every five minutes," Ron said, suppressing the shudder which mention of Voldemort's name had induced. "So, Harry, tell us about your mum. We know your dad was a stag when he transformed. What did your _mum_ change into?"  
  
A blithe expression drifted across Harry's face as he said: "A unicorn."  
  
This time it was Hermione's turn to fall over. When she righted herself, combing bits of leaves and twigs from her bushy hair, she moved her mouth soundlessly as Harry gaped stupidly. Looking to Ron for reassurance, Harry was startled to see virtually the same stunned expression on Ron's face as on Hermione's.  
  
"What is it?" Harry asked, his eyes shifting back and forth between Ron and Hermione. "You both look like you've seen a ghost -- and I'm _not_ talking about Moaning Myrtle."  
  
Hermione found her voice before Ron. In great detail, she told Harry about her duel with Ron, of the explosive reaction when their wands clashed, and of their visit to Ollivander's. Lacking Hermione's eloquence, Ron punctuated her narrative with occasional nods and grunts of affirmation. In the end, Harry's face took on a dazed expression that reminded Ron of Aidan Lynch, the Irish National Seeker, after he'd plowed his broomstick into the ground at the Quidditch World Cup match last year.  
  
"It couldn't be," Harry said weakly. "I mean, there are loads of unicorns in the Forbidden Forest."  
  
"But Mr. Ollivander said _this_ unicorn appeared twenty years ago next month," Hermione said. "And he said he never saw her again. And you _know_ how skittish unicorns are around males. But _this_ one let Mr. Ollivander just walk up and pluck not just _one_ hair, but _two_! And he said -- he said she had an almost -- human look in her eyes."  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione were all standing now. And, without realizing they had done so, all three had drawn their wands and were now regarding them intently.  
  
"Is there any way of knowing for sure?" Harry said achingly. It was breaking his heart to think that some physical aspect of his mother could be so close and yet so far away. It should have come as no surprise to him that Hermione, as she did so often in class, had the answer.  
  
"There's a spell that wandsmiths use," she said, "to determine the core of a wand as a means of identification. It produces an image of the magical creature whose 'donation' comprises the wand's core."  
  
"What do we do?" Harry said anxiously.  
  
After a thoughtful pause, Hermione said, "Let's switch wands. If the incantation isn't pronounced exactly right -- "  
  
"Like 'Wingardium Leviosa?' " Ron said with a twinkle in his eye. It was exactly what was needed to break the tension of the moment, and Harry and Hermione both laughed as they exchanged wands.   
  
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, reviewing the spell in her mind. Opening her eyes, she nodded at Harry, who held out her wand. Extending Harry's wand, she touched its tip to her own and said, "_Zoomagicus Revealus_!"  
  
As all three watched, a wisp of silver vapor emerged from the wand in Harry's hand. The misty cloud expanded, stretching out tendrils which slowly coalesced into long, slender limbs and an elongated head. Within moments, a horse-like creature was standing before them, white as solidified moonlight. Pale silver eyes stared out from beneath a tufted mane framing a long, magnificent horn.  
  
But even as the trio gaped in silent awe at the splendid unicorn standing before them, the creature began to change. The sleek, equine body rose up, slimming as it did so, condensing into a slender, upright figure that stood on two feet. That which had been a mane was now become long, flowing hair framing a gentle face with deep, tender eyes that bored straight into Harry's soul.   
  
"Mum?" Harry nearly sobbed. Looking back at him, her ghostly silver face radiant, Lily Potter smiled at her son. There was no mistaking her. How often had he seen her in one form or another in the past four years? In the Mirror of Erised -- in the photo album given him by Hagrid -- in the terrible dreams brought on by the presence of the dementors --  
  
And in the cemetery at Little Hangleton, emerging ghost-like from Voldemort's wand, looking _exactly_ as she did now. Feeling a fist squeezing his heart from the inside, Harry reached out a trembling hand to touch the face of the mother he had never known. But no sooner did his fingers brush her cheek than the silver mist of which she was composed dissolved. In the time it took Harry to bring his hand to his face to wipe his tear-stained cheeks, she was gone.  
  
Harry stood motionless for what seemed an eternity. He did not react when Hermione took her wand back and pressed his own into his nerveless hand. When at last his muscles regained their motive power, Harry slowly removed his glasses and passed the sleeve of his robes across his damp, burning eyes.  
  
"For so many years," he said weakly, "I felt like the loneliest person in the world. I didn't really care _how_ my parents died. I only knew that they were gone. That I'd never know them.  
  
"Then Hogwarts happened. Dumbledore told me that the dead we love never truly leave us. And he was right. First, I got my dad back. In the Patronus Charm. And now..."  
  
Harry looked, through eyes now dry and clear, at his two best friends -- and at the wands in their hands -- the wands containing the only physical remainder of his dead mother.  
  
"My two best friends," he said. "The most important people in my life. Yes, I have Sirius now. And one of these days we'll make a life for ourselves. I know that as sure as I'm standing here now. But you two are the top of the mountain as far as I'm concerned. Maybe it seemed that we were brought together by a chance meeting at Kings Cross -- and by a mountain troll in the girls' loo -- but I know now that there's more to it. It's -- it's like my mum knew, all those years ago. She let Mr. Ollivander take a part of her so that she'd live on after -- " Harry choked, drew a gasping breath. "And it _can't_ be a coincidence that the two wands containing my mum's 'spirit' chose the two of you. It's all too -- perfect. No. It _must_ be -- a sign."  
  
For the second time that day, Ron nearly dropped his wand. "A -- sign?" he said in a ghostly voice.  
  
"It must be," Harry said. "How else can you explain the three of us? Everything we've been through?   
  
"Ron, you're the best mate a bloke ever had. I don't tell you that enough, but I hope you always knew it. I dunno where I'd be today if we'd never met that first day at Kings Cross."  
  
Ron felt a lance of guilt for his prattish behavior last year that had nearly destroyed their friendship, fueled by his childish jealousy over Harry's celebrity. Looking back now, he didn't know how he ever could have doubted Harry when he swore that he hadn't placed his name in the Goblet of Fire. It would have served him right if Harry _never_ forgave him. And yet here was Harry telling him that he was the best mate a bloke ever had!   
  
No, Ron thought, he wasn't. Far from it. But, by Merlin, he _would_ be! Starting from this very moment, he would be the best mate he could be. After all he had been through, Harry deserved nothing less.  
  
Grinning with more than a trace of embarrassment, Ron answered Harry's rhetorical question: "You'll never have the chance to find out, mate. You'll see Millicent Bulstrode on the cover of Witch Weekly before they split _us_ apart."  
  
Smiling gratefully, Harry turned to fix Hermione with eyes suddenly tender -- and, Ron thought, almost worshipful.  
  
"And what can I say about Hermione?" Harry said in a voice thick with emotion. "Smartest witch at Hogwarts. With a heart as big as the mountain we're standing on." He grinned as Hermione's cheeks flushed a deep magenta.  
  
"Harry," Hermione said quickly in an effort to hide her unease, "did Myrtle say whether your mum had a special name for when she transformed? You know, like Prongs, and Padfoot?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry said. "Myrtle said she heard them talking loads of times, before and after they transformed. Dad called her -- Snowfire."  
  
"What a beautiful name," Hermione said, swallowing a sob.  
  
A strange light suddenly glowed in Harry's emerald eyes, distinct even in the gathering darkness. He looked meaningfully into Hermione's eyes, nodding at her wand as he brandished his own for emphasis. Though no word passed between them, Hermione seemed to read Harry's mind instantly.  
  
"Do you think we can, Harry?" she said hesitantly. "I mean, it's _very_ advanced magic. It took _you loads_ of practice -- and _I've_ never even _tried_ it before."  
  
"Don't you remember what Hagrid said?" Harry smiled. Imitating Hagrid's gravelly voice, Harry quoted: "They 'aven't invented a spell our Hermione can't do." As Hermione continued to demur, Harry said gently, "Trust me, Hermione. We _can_ do this." He held out his hand. "Together."  
  
Blushing deeply as Ron looked on in bewilderment, Hermione took Harry's hand. Harry paused a moment, as if in thought. Then, in imitation of that fateful night nearly two years ago, he pointed his wand at the lake. Smiling appreciatively, Hermione did likewise.  
  
"It's not so much about practice," Harry said knowledgably, "as state of mind. "The secret is a happy thought. I have mine," he said, squeezing her hand for emphasis. "How about you?"  
  
Smiling broadly through a deep blush, Hermione nodded.  
  
"On three," Harry said. "One...two..."  
  
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" they cried together. Two silvery shapes leaped forth, one from Harry's wand, the other from Hermione's. The two Patroni galloped side-by-side over the surface of the lake with what seemed to Harry a wild, joyous abandon, their churning hooves making no slightest ripple on the smooth surface of the water. Ron's mouth fell open as he beheld the great, proud stag gliding effortlessly beside its mate, a sleek, breathtakingly beautiful unicorn. Observing Harry and Hermione out of the corner of his eye, he saw their hands clasp more tightly as they stood watching their magical creations cavort in what, Ron thought disconcertingly, was unmistakably a courtship ritual.   
  
To Harry, it was like looking into a magic glass to behold a world at once strange and familiar. Unlike the Mirror of Erised, this was a window that looked into the past, revealing a Hogwarts that existed some two decades ago. In this moment -- and, in Harry's heart, for all time -- James Potter and Lily Evans were together again, forever sixteen and joyously, eternally in love. And, as he stood with the vision of his parents in his eyes and the feel of Hermione's hand in his, Harry vowed that Prongs and Snowfire would never be separated again.  
  
All too quickly for Harry's liking, the marvelous tapestry wrought by equal parts of magic and love began to unravel. The two Patroni were fading, reverting to naught but formless mist and softly whispered memory. But as the three young wizards looked on with hearts alternately light and sad, there was no mistaking that, in their final moments of magical existence, Prongs and Snowfire were nuzzling each other in an unmistakable display of profound affection.  
  
For his part, Ron found the spectacle somewhat discomforting, as if he were spying on an intimate moment best left unobserved. As he averted his eyes, he saw that Hermione was looking even more flustered than he (if that were possible). He quickly saw why. Harry was edging nearer to Hermione, and it looked to Ron as though Harry were trying to summon the pluck to kiss her! Hermione was more than aware of this, but as her hand was still held firmly in Harry's, she could not extricate herself from what was clearly an awkward position for the shy, bookish girl.  
  
"Harry, you prat," Ron muttered under his breath. "What are you using for brains, dragon dung? You'll skew it all, you great berk."  
  
Acting with the decisiveness Hermione had whetted in him during their repeated dueling sessions, Ron leaped forward and hooked his arm around Harry's neck.  
  
"Come on, mate, let's go in," Ron said in a kind of light-hearted resignation. "We still have that Potions essay to finish, and Snape will boil us in Swelling Solution if we're late.  
  
"And you can bet your Firebolt that _Hermione_ isn't going to let us copy _her_ paper!"  
  
"Too right _there_," Hermione said, extracting her hand from Harry's as his grip relaxed. "Anyway," she added, "I still have two feet of ancient runes to translate by Monday. With all this business with the wands, and the trip to Ollivander's, I've let my work slide shamefully.  
  
"I may not see you at breakfast tomorrow," she added, addressing both Harry and Ron. "I'll be going straight to -- "  
  
"The library," Harry and Ron chorused.  
  
Giggling with what Ron sensed was pure relief, Hermione gave Harry a quick but aggressive hug. Peeking over Harry's shoulder, Hermione caught Ron's eye and mouthed a silent, "Thank you." Ron grinned, tapping the side of his long nose knowingly.  
  
As Hermione scampered off to the castle, Harry and Ron walked at a leisurely pace, neither in a hurry to go inside on so glorious a night. Without warning, Ron said, "Blimey, Harry, you nearly put your foot in it back there." As Harry flashed his friend a look that was equal parts surprise and embarrassment, Ron clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Look, mate, if you're gonna snog a bird, you can't just swoop in like owl post, know what I mean?"  
  
Harry's eyes and mouth went round in perfect concert. "How did -- ?"  
  
"It's like setting up a chessboard," Ron went on without missing a beat. "All the pieces have to be in place -- especially if you want to win the queen." He winked as Harry continued to stare stupidly. "Now, with a down-to-earth girl like Hermione," Ron said knowledgably, "you'll want to start simple. Say, nip on down to the kitchens and have Dobby pack you a picnic lunch for two. Follow that with a stroll around the lake, maybe holding hands, but not too possessive, you know? Trust me, she'll be all over you like ugly on Goyle's face -- well, you get my meaning.  
  
"Am I going too fast for you?"  
  
Harry was blinking his eyes rapidly. "How did -- you _know_?"  
  
"Know what?" Ron said innocently.  
  
"How did you know that I was -- that I was thinking about -- ?"  
  
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Ron said cloyingly in a dead-on impersonation of Lockhart.   
  
Harry blinked again, then they both burst out laughing.   
  
"Seriously, Harry," Ron said with a knowing smile. "Trust me. If there's one thing I know -- " and once more he tapped his finger alongside his freckled nose, " -- it's how to read the signs."  
  
  


***

  
  
**Author's Note:** And there you have it. As many of you may know, J.K. is promising some HUGE revelation about Lily Potter. It's also been said that her wand's proclivity for Charm work (mentioned in Book 1) will prove significant by story's end. Was Lily an Animagus? Very likely. Was she a Unicorn when she transformed? Quite possible. Are her tail hairs at the cores of Ron's and Hermione's wands? Probably not. But two out of three ain't bad. And if it's ALL dandelion fluff, so what? This is MY vision, freely shared with all who embrace the H/H Ideal. Let me know what you think.  
  
I'm all geared up for the release of Order of the Phoenix, so I don't expect to return before July. But when I do, it will be with a bang! Next up will be my longest story by far. The plot? Nothing less than the wedding of Harry and Hermione!   
  
But -- it will not be an ordinary wedding. It will be a truly magical WIZARD wedding, the likes of which has never been seen (I hope) in fan fiction. Reserve your seat for the WIZARD WEDDING OF THE MILLENNIUM in a story simply titled: The Joining. See you then.  



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